Marie Antoinette and the Cake that Does Not Lie
by Flying Sugarplums
Summary: What would you call a double entendre that is too obvious to be one? The single entente? Aoko muses. Old Story for DireSphinx ! on a totally unrelated matter, why does my ENGLISH spell check prefer the French spelling?


**Originally I was going to rewrite this, but I had no trust in my abilities. So this is very close to the original, with some mild, if otherwise unnoticeable, changes. Originally written for DireSphinx.**

**Literally based on a conversation I had with her, by the way. I messaged to her one day—"I want cake." Have fun guessing which parts were actually us and which parts I made up for this story.**

**This story was a practise on dialogue. Unfortunately, I still suck.**

**Everything (including soul) belongs to maker of DC & MK.**

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**Marie Antoinette and the Cake That Does Not Lie.**

Kaito and Aoko are sitting on the carpet, staring at the ceiling fan, backs to the bed. The darkness outside the window swallowed everything that it touched (like light—how scary; Aoko scooted closer to Kaito—and since Kaito didn't really mind, he said nothing.) There was only a crinkly bag of cool-cucumber flavoured chips between them, and an empty box of pocky. Kaito mused on why the empty box was still there. He'd rather have nothing between them at all.

(actually, Aoko too, but she couldn't bring herself to toss the box away)

It was silent.

Then there were flashes.

Aoko scooted closer.

"Aoko."

"Yes?"

And yes, Kaito can get embarrassed too. So he, instead of addressing the matter at hand (the box sat there like a Easter Island statue; a stony third member that seemed to mock them with it's presence), said: "I'm hungry."

Aoko threw him an incredulous look. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." His nod was pretty self-contented—Aoko wondered if he was crazy—he continued and she decided he was—"For cake."

"For cake." She muttered with an raised eyebrow.

"For cake." Kaito reaffirmed.

Aoko stared at him for a few more moments. Then she shrugged. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, right? (That was a coward approach, and Kaito was being a coward, but so was Aoko, so, whatever.)

"... Well. I'm hungry for pie. Not cake."

Kaito frowned, and when he spoke he spoke in such a way that Aoko almost believed they were having a serious, philosophical conversation, like questioning the meaning of life, or the future, or some other sort of important nonsense—instead, they were talking about cake and pie. "Pie? Why pie?"

"Because the cake is a lie."

"The cake is a lie?!"

"Yes. And I would not be taken by the lie."

"... Are you sure?"

Aoko nodded sagely. "The pie does not lie. The pie will never lie."

(There was a flash of lightening, and when the lightening was gone, it went pitch dark—the light flickers once, twice, and the Easter-statue box is gone. Neither comments.)

Kaito sulked. "I've been taken by the lie."

"You have." Then, in a parental voice adopted by those who thought themselves superior to others, she consolingly said—"But that is fine. It happens to the best of us sometimes."

(There is the drums of thunder, the claps of lightening, the light flickers once, twice, and everything is pitch dark. The dark swallows everything. Including the half opened chips. Neither comments.)

There's a five, ten, twenty minute pause. When Kaito speaks again, Aoko is almost surprised at the sound of his voice. It's light and raspy and paints shivers along her spine.

"But what if I want my cake and eat it too?" He asks flippantly—a double entendre, she thinks, expect it is too obvious for such such a thing.

(He is approaching the matter at hand.)

"Don't you know what they did to Queen Antoinette when she said let them eat cake and ice-cream? I do."

(She is deflecting from the matter at hand.)

Kaito gave her a Look. "Most historians agree she didn't say that." The scolding tone extended farther then for mere irritation at a wrong piece of historic trivia.

Aoko tilted her head. "Really?"

Kaito nodded, so Aoko backed down. She's never known Kaito to lie before. (He knows this, and thinks—'_How ironic._')

(She scoots closer to him, because there's hail, and stuff, and it's loud and creepy and the darkness still swallows everything right up. Everything except Kaito's eyes, which shone wickedly in the light. They are so close she could see the darkness bouncing off his pupils. You can't swallow what's darker then you, after all.

So she prattles, because to be truthful, she's a bit scared—)

"Well. But whenever I hear that phrase I always think of poor Antoinette. She got a bad rap by the common-born folk of the time. And you know what? I don't think she's as—"

He stops her by saying her name. "Aoko." Her voice cracks to an awkward stop—she can't possibly continue with him sounding like that.

There's another pause. Ice shaped like gnocchi ricocheted off the window. She'd scoot closer to Kaito in the fear of them destroying her bedroom window, except there's really no space at all in between. She swears he could hear her heartbeat.

(Actually, he probably could, if his own wasn't drowning her's out.)

"Aoko." He repeated again, and the box, the chips, the air, the light—it all leaves them. Kaito and Aoko are sitting on the carpet, staring at eachother, backs to the bed. And his eyes are indigo.

She's nervous. But the delay has been too long.

"Y-Yeah?"

"Can I kiss you?"

(do you need to ask?)

So she nods. (—and what she doesn't know is for Kaito, the only thing that is not a lie is the blue of her eyes.)

There is a flash outside, and they kiss.


End file.
